


The Darker Side of Me

by GryffindorPride



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryffindorPride/pseuds/GryffindorPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the <br/> part we choose to act on." What if Harry had tortured Bellatrix in the Ministry that night? Would the darker side finally overcome him? Could he still hold on to who he was? Voldemort wants to know just how far he can push the young wizard before he snaps again so instead of killing Harry that night he decided to kidnap him. How long can he last in captivity without breaking?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever fanfiction. I've had this idea in my head for years, but I've always been nervous about actually writing it. In other words, be gentle. I do want loads of opinions and if it goes over well I plan on adding more chapters. There will be lots of mistakes. I'm writing off of my phone for now, until we get internet at our new house. If you've ever tried proof reading on a phone then you know my struggle. So please bare with me and enjoy.

That insufferable cackling bounced off every wall, rebounding back into his ringing ears as blind rage drove him forward. Around each turn he could hear the pop of spells being sent back at him, sending him darting back around the corner. Still he charged on, knowing soon enough he would catch up to her. Then what? What could be possibly do to make her pay for the pain she had caused him? 

Rounding the corner, Harry sprinted into the atrium where he could see Bellatrix's sneering face waiting. He barely had time to register what she was doing before a flash of red wizzed past his ear, causing him to dive behind the glittering fountain. Another spell sent shattered concrete and other debris raining down on his head, as parts of the fountain exploded. Aiming his wand over his shoulder, he sent his own spells blindly in her direction. A sharp laugh pierced the quiet. 

"What's wrong little Harry? Lost your nerve so soon?" Her taunt was thick with that child like tone that set his nerves on edge. Gritting his teeth, he spun out from his hiding spot, wand at the ready. Dodging a spell, he shouted the first curse that came to his clouded mind.

"Crucio!" 

His voice sounded unfamiliar as it echoed off each wall. Watching, he saw Bellatrix fall to the ground in a tangle of shaking arms and legs. Rushing over, the adrenalin pumping through his shaking legs, Harry could tell that the effects wouldn't last long. She wasn't twitching and screaming like Neville had earlier, in fact by the time he had reached her she was already regaining her crazed composure.

A smirk crossed her face as she turned to look up at him from her vulnerable place on the cold floor. " Is that all you've got Potter," Bellatrix taunted in a slightly winded tone. "First time using an unforgivable, eh? How does it make the little boy feel? Big, bad Potter can't even hold the curse for longer than a second." The sneer on her face only grew as his grip tightened on the handle of his wand. He had her trapped like a spider beneath his foot, and now what? What could he possibly do that would make things right? 

Bellatrix let out another cackle and made to rise to her feet, but Harry thrust his wand in her direction. "Don't ," he whispered, his hand shaking noticeably now. The smile on her face broadened, but she remained still.

"What are you going to do Harry? Hmm," she goaded "You going to kill me? I don't think you have what it takes boy." He could hear the childish tone in her voice, and his thoughts immediately went to his godfather. His dead godfather. She killed him and now she was at his mercy, and what was she doing? Acting like he was no threat. All the rage he had felt for the past few years began to build inside him, as he thought of all the people she had killed. The Longbottoms, who this woman had tortured into insanity, were lying in St. Mungos while their son sat by knowing they would never recognize him again. Suddenly Harry knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to cause her as much pain as she had caused all those families over the years. He wanted her to know what it was like to suffer. Yet, a small voice rang in the back of his head warning him of the thin line he was about to cross. 

Raising his wand, he barely had time to comprehend what he was doing before his voice was ringing out over the empty room. "CRUCIO!" A wave of light erupted from the end of his wand, and he just had time to register the look of pure shock on Lestrange's face before it contorted onto a grimacing scream. 

Her blood curdling cries were a complete contrast to the maniacal laughs he had heard earlier. Watching as she curled in on herself, Harry couldn't help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction. He was doing what hundreds of families wished they could do to this wretch of a woman. A slight prickle in his scar flared at this thought. Ignoring it, he watch with a blank stare as Bellatrix lost the ability to scream, her mouth merely forming a soundless gape. Her fingernails were scraping at the floor violently, some beginning to flake off as she tried hopelessly to escape her pain. He was just beginning to wonder how much longer she would last when a cold hand gripped his shoulder.

The prickle in his scar that he had been ignoring flared to a blinding pain causing his knees to buckle under him. His wand rolled across the stone floor with a clatter that seemed tremendously loud in that moment. A whisper came in his ear, barely understandable over his hammering heart. "I think that will do Mr. Potter," it said in a cool hiss that sent a rush of hot breath over his ear and a chill down his spine.

Harry felt the long fingers release him, and he fell forward onto his hands with a huff of air. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath. In front of him , an image of a cloaked man pushing Bellatrix's shaking body with his foot came swimming into focus. She gave a start before crawling, unsteadily and slowly, to her saviors feet. 

"M..my Lo..." Her voice was cracked and weak, so much so that she couldn't form a simple sentence. What had he done? He had nearly tortured a woman out of her mind. Hell he had tortured someone! He felt like retching as he watched her clutch at the hem of Voldemort's robes like a beggar looking for food. And there he stood looking down on her in disgust, not unlike how Harry, himself, had looked at her a few minutes ago. No. He would not compare himself to that man.

"Get off me woman," the Dark Lord spat, kicking out a foot that sent her scrambling backwards. "You're luck you have such a merciful Lord. I could have easily let the boy torture you to death. Not that you don't deserve it." Bellatrix made to thank Voldemort, but he quickly cut her off. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Harry couldn't tell if Bellatrix was bowing or just unable to stand fully erect, but he expected the latter, as she apparated on the spot leaving him alone with his enemy. Surely someone from the Order would be here shortly. They had to have followed him after he took chase. However, he soon realized it would be to late. 

Voldemort clasped his hands behind his back, and let out a soft chuckle. "You've surprised me, Harry and that is no easy feat," he said just barely above a whisper, but to Harry it might as well have been an ear splitting scream. Still, the man didn't turn to face the boy. Seizing the opportunity, Harry clambered to his feet and scanned the room for his missing wand. "Looking for something?" The Dark Lord turned on his heal, and with a gleeful smile waved Harry's wand in a playful manner. How could he have gotten it so quickly? 

Cursing, Harry could only return to the one hope that remained. Where was Lupin? Surely he couldn't have been that far behind. Another soft chuckle broke his thoughts, and Harry raised his emerald eyes to meet the blazing red gaze that seemed to know what he was thinking. "What seems to be so funny?" the boy snapped in irritation.

Voldemort only smirked, shaking his bald head slightly. "It seems your friends are having lift troubles." Harry's heart sunk and it must have shown on his face. "No matter. We will be done here before they can break through." The older wizard paced leisurely towards Harry, who instinctively took a few retreating steps until his back collided with a solid pillar. 

Voldemort stopped inches from him, a broad smile playing across his lipless mouth. "You know I came here tonight to kill you, Harry. After smashing that prophecy, how could i let you live? However," he paused here looking the boy up and down as if to size him up. For some reason this left Harry feeling more uneasy than before. What could be worse than killing him? The man reached up to touch the thin scar on the young wizard's forehead, however Harry immediate reacted. Putting his arm up, Harry made to push Voldemort's outstretched hand away from him only to have his wrist caught in a vise like grip between those icy fingers. 

Pulling the boy's wrist around until the muscles were stretched to their limits, Voldemort couldn't help but smile at the effort Harry put into not letting a scream escape his tight lips. "I think I've found a new use for you Potter. A little...let's call it an experiment. An experiment on just how far you're willing to stretch that Gryffindor loyalty that everyone praises you for." The sick smile only added to the bile that was beginning to creep its way up the back of Harry's throat.

The pain in his scar was searing to a new high, and his vision began to loose focus on the situation. He could feel his conscious slipping. However, just as fast as the pain had come on it disappeared. Sliding down the brick column,Harry gasped for air, while looking around to see what had caught his assaulter's attention. 

He didn't have to search long before his eyes landed on a figure in the middle of the vast room, his grey beard swaying slightly from side to side. Harry had never been more happy to see the Headmaster, but by the look on his face Harry could tell the situation was far from over. But surely Dumbledore would have a plan. 

Glaring at each other from across the room, neither made a sound or move for several minutes. Dumbledore was the first to break the silence. "It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," he said simply, but his demeanor never changed. Braced for the attack that was inevitable. 

Voldemort merely grinned his famous smile, bringing to mind the former boyish form he use to have. "Oh I think not Dumbledore. You see I have everything to gain from this encounter." With that simple statement he reached down with lightning reflexes and entwined his skelton fingers into Harry's messy black locks. Letting out sharp gasp, Harry could only try and keep his head still, least he loose a chunk of hair and scalp. 

In that moment a look of weary grief passed over the Headmaster's face making him, if possible, look older than he ever had. Looking away from Voldemort's triumphant face, his blue eyes came to rest on Harry's pleading face. Voldemort's high pitched laugh pierced the quite Atrium as he saw his victory was at hand. "You should have seen this coming you old fool. Instead, by ignoring the boy all year, you have set him up for this." 

Dumbledore didn't react to this, his eyes still surveying the boy who trying his best to break free from his captures' hold. "Of course you are right Tom," he agreed slowly as if each word pained him. Taking a cautious step forward, Dumbledore switched his gaze back to the Dark Lord who immediately went on the defensive. Tightening his hold on Harry's hair, he tilted the boy's head back to expose his vulnerable throat. Placing his wand to the pale skin, Voldemort watched as Dumbledore stopped his advance. "I've grown foolish in my old age, but I won't let you take that out on.."

"HARRY!" 

The shrill cry cut through Dumbledore's words bringing the attention to the lift entrance where several people stood apparently frozen in shock. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Remus holding a faint looking Hermione who was on the verge of tears. She was about to say something else when a eruption of green fire burst from nearly every fireplace. Out of the nearest flame stepped a very exasperated Cornelius Fudge, who had apparently thrown on a cloak over his nightgown. Upon seeing the scene before him, the squat wizard came to an immediate halt, mouth agape. 

Smirking, Voldemort turned his attention back to Dumbledore. "Well old friend it seems that our time has come. I hope you don't mind if I take your little hero with me." He gave Harry's head a little pull, and added with a hiss "We have other arrangements to attend to." 

Harry had just enough time to see several people make a dash for him before the room began to fade away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to write another chapter. I had most of it written but it's been trapped on my old phone for a year. I finally finished it though! Yay!! Any suggestions are welcome. Sorry for any mistakes. It's hard proofreading from a phone. Hope you enjoy!

_POP_

Harry was pushed forward into the darkness, stumbling onto his hands and knees. A searing pain  erupted in his palms as splinters embedded deep in his skin. His hands and trousers were stained with what seemed to be several years of dirt and grime that had built up on the old wooden floors he was now kneeling on. A cool breeze whistled through the cracks in the delapitated walls, chilling his sweat drenched forehead. Glancing up, he saw an old ornate door directly in front of him and he scrambled for it. He grabbed the handle and frantically began to pull and twist it ,willing it to open to no avail. He quickly changed his attention to the windows that had been borded shut, tugging at the dry rotted wood only to find them as solid as if they had been nailed in yesterday. He could feel his heart hammering in chest and his breath came in desperate gasps as the truth sank in. He was trapped. 

A soft chuckle behind him reminded him that he was not alone and dread feeled his heart as he turned to face his captor. It was the first time he was able to see the room he was imprisoned in in its entirety. He was standing in what looked to be the foyer of an old manor that had been vacant for sometime. Graffiti and tattered painting adorned the filth covered walls and a chandelier hung above twisting creakily in the draft. In both directions hallways led off into separate wings of the house and directly in the middle stood a grand staircase. He could see the elegant banister and the hand crafted spindles even in the moonlit room. It was then that he realized exactly where they were. 

"Finally starting to put the pieces together,eh Harry?" The cold voice finally broke the silence and Harry was forced to turn his gaze to the slender figure leaning casually against the banister. A smirk played across those thin white lips as Voldemort shook his head. "You really think I would bring you to a place that you could escape from? You must think me a fool my dear boy." 

Pushing himself away from the rickety staircase, Voldemort made his way to the corridor on his right. " Come let's talk somewhere with less of a draft" he said without so much as a glance back.Harry remained rooted in his spot, unwilling to follow directions from his enemy. He could see the light of a fire now burning from one of the many rooms down the hall. "There's no use in being defiant this early in the game, Harry. You can't stand there all night after all." The Dark Lord's voice rang through the empty house and deep down Harry knew he was right. 

Regaining his nerve, the boy cautiously followed the sound of the crackling fire. Turning into the third door on the left, he found Voldemort sitting at a mahogany desk starring over his steepled boney fingers. Glancing around, he could see hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dust covered book lining the room in ceiling high shelves. "Please sit." Voldemort was motioning to a high-back chair directly across the desk from him. Without arguing, Harry walked the length of the room and sunk into the moldy fabric, dust billowing out as he sat down. "Now that's a good lad," Voldemort said with a wide sneer. 

"So," he began, leaning forward a bit further in his chair. "I assume you're wondering why I've brought you here to my muggle father's house instead of returning to the rest of the Death Eaters." He paused here as if to see if Harry would answer him. When he saw no response would come, he pressed on with a slight sigh. "You see I knew if I were to bring you back in the midst of all those Death Eaters you wouldn't survive till morning. I..." 

"So you're saying you can't control your own slaves?" Harry interjected, speaking for the first time that night. His voice was cracked but held no fear of interrupting the dark wizard. He watched as Voldemort narrowed his red eyes but his smirk remained. 

"You do realize you were on the brink of torturing Bellatrix into insanity?" The glee in his voice was almost palpable and Harry had to look away as shame washed over him. He didn't need reminding of the pain he had just caused someone. "Besides that, you have many enemies that would jump at the chance to kill you if I were to bring you back there without warning." 

It was Harry's turn to let out a soft chuckle. "Something you find funny in that," Voldmeort asked, his smile dropping a fraction. 

Harry lifted his gaze to meet those red eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Its just, I've had an enemy for fifteen years and yet I'm still here." He let a smile play across his face as he watched Voldemort's fall completely away. He could see the anger flash in those eyes and prepared himself for the repercussion. 

But his enemy remained earily calm as a smile returned to his pale face. "Harry, may I ask how many times you've stopped my plans?" Before the boy could answer Voldemort continued on. "And how many of those times have you had help? You see, I get the notion that you think yourself invincible." Harry held his gaze unwilling to back down. He knew he had had help, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of doing things himself. From the corner of his eye he could see Voldemort pulling his wand from inside his cloak. "Do you think I could kill you right now? No wand, no friends, and no mother to die in your place." 

Harry dropped his stare back to the floor. Fear was gripping his stomach, knowing that any second could be his last. He had no wand, no possible chance of a fair fight. If Voldemort were to attack him now, there would be no chance of survival. "Just do it then," he whispered unable to let the Dark Lord see the panic in his eyes. If he was going to die here, he wasn't about to let the man see just how scared he was.

"I'm sorry what was that my boy? Why don't you look at me when you speak? Isn't that the respectful thing to do?" Harry could here the joy in the voice ahead of him but couldn't bring himself to look. Voldemort had him exactly where he wanted, and Harry wasn't going to play along with his sick game. An invisible force gripped his chin, forcing his head painfully upwards until he couldn't help but stare into those glowing eyes. "There, that's better now isn't it? Now answer my question. Do you think I could kill you right now?" 

Harry could feel Voldemort's excitement pulsing through his body, mixing with his own overwhelming fear. The combination made his head swim, and he had to fight off a wave of nausea that threatened to make him sick. The grip on his chin tightened to an excruciating hold and Harry was forced to grit his teeth in pain. "Yes," was all he was able to say through his clamped teeth. 

With a renewed smile Voldemort waved his wand and Harry felt the pressure on his chin dissipate immediately. Voldemort unexpectedly stood from his chair and rounded the desk, coming to a stop directly in front of Harry. Leaning back against the desk, he started down at the boy with a pondering expression on his face. "I'm not going to kill you tonight, Harry. I've got too many questions that need answering." Harry made to respond by saying that he wasn't about to cooperate, but Voldemort cut him off. "Before you refuse me, know that its not your life that I'll be threatening. After all you have plenty of friends to choose from. There's no way for the Order to protect them all." 

Harry's mouth shut quickly. He was more than willing to die rather than to participate in whatever Voldemort had planned, but how could he possibly risk the lives of his friends. Weighing his options, he could see no way out at that moment. Hesitantly, he looked back up at the man and asked, "What exactly do you want?"

With an uneven sneer, Voldemort leaned over until he was almost nose to nose with Harry. Studying his emerald eyes for an uncomfortable minute, Voldemort finally spoke. "Funny how ones mind works, isn't it Harry?" The boy could feel excitement working its way back into his system, and no matter how hard he fought it, the feeling only seemed to grow. An image broke into his mind, taking the place of Voldemort's snake like face.  

He was back in the Ministry and standing feet from him was Sirius. An immense amount of joy swept over him and he began to run to the shaggy haired man. A blinding red light crossed his path, hitting his Godfather directly in the chest. It was then Harry realized he was being forced to watch Sirius's death again. Wanting to shout, Harry found his voice heavy on his tongue. All he could do is watch as Sirius stumbled into the vail again. Grief began to creep into heart but behind that was an unexplainable feeling, on that almost felt like delight. It was as if he was getting enjoyment from watching the last real family he had disappear forever. 

Stumbling to his knees, Harry fought the feeling that was spreading like wildfire in his brain. He would not allow it to overcome him. However, no matter how hard he tried a smile began to creep on his face and a soft laughter broke from his lips; or was it sobbing. The two mixed together until he was gagging on his own emotions. 

Reality hit him hard as the scene in his head dematerialized and he found himself doubled over in the same filthy chair, blood leaking from his lower lip that he had bit in attempt to control his laughter. Tears were streaking down his cheeks, yet a smile was on his bloody lips. Above him he could hear a slight laughter that mimicked his own.  "Oh the range of human emotions." Voldemort's voice was full glee as he grabbed a fist full of Harry's hair and pulled his shaking body upright.

"I've been wanting to test that connection we have for several months now," the Dark Lord said, leaning in close again. "I knew I could send images to your mind, but I had no idea I could manipulate your emotions in such a way." He was now inches from Harry's face, staring into those bright green eyes as if reading an instruction manual. 

Harry, who had reserved his anger all night, could finally feel it boiling to the top. This whole night; the loss of his Godfather, being kidnapped, being experimented on, it was all Voldemort's fault. He would not sit here and be examined like some insect trapped in a jar. Sucking in as much blood from his busted lip as possible, Harry spit the mixture into Voldemort's snake like face. 

For the first time that night, Voldemort's jubilant expression was lost as rage overcame him. Harry barely had time to see those bone like fingers tighten on the handle of his wand before it was shoved violently between two of his ribs. "Crucio" was the last thing he heard before the ringing in his ears began. White hot fire spread through his bones as he choked back the scream rising in his dry throat. Raking his finger nails into the wooden arms of the chair, Harry thrashed backwards into the chair as if trying to get always from the pain. Cold fingers attached to his chin like a vice grip, sending lightning hot flashes into his scar. The agony was so immense he waited for his head to split open, eyes shut tight. A anguishing scream broke through his cracked lips and he silently begged for death to over take him.

The curse was lifted from his body leaving him doubled over, his chest heaving frantically in the desperate search to find air. He felt his glasses slip from his sweat drenched face to the floor with a light clatter. In place of the pain a numb feeling spread through his body making his stomach turn in upheaval. Silence overtook them leaving only the crackle of the fire and Harry's shallow breath to feel the room. 

A sigh broke the silence around them, as Voldemort regained his calm composure. Through the blur and tears,Harry could see the tall wizard bending to reclaim the cracked glasses from the grime covered floor. "I had rather hoped we could have skipped this part, Harry" The Dark Lord whispered. Grabbing ahold of Harry's shoulder he pushed him roughly erect against the back of the rigid chair, sending jolts of pain down his body. Voldmeort then placed the boys glasses gently back upon the bridge of his nose, taking a minute to stare into those teary green eyes before raising the corner of his mouth in a half smile. "Although, I can't say I don't enjoy watching you squirm in agony," he said with a retreating step. 

Harry, who was still regaining his nerve, held his captore's gaze unwilling to seem as broken as he felt."I have to return to my Death Eaters tonight and see what damage you and your foolish friends have done. You will stay here until…" 

"You can't keep me here," the boy interrupted, each word causing him apparent discomfort as he clutched at his injured ribs. 

Voldemort gritted his teeth in clear frustration of being cut off. The playful demeanor he had taken on early in the night had all but evaporated. "My dear boy," he began, each word punctuated with an emence hatred. "Do I need to remind you of who is in control here? As I stated earlier this house is protected in every nook and cranny. I my self have made sure of it. No way out, no one to hear you. You're stuck here." He paused, taking a long look at the boy in front of him, letting those words sink in. 

"Now, like I was saying, you will stay here. Every room is free to your exploration and you will find, though delapitated and unclean, many beds for you to sleep in." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was he actually expected to sleep in a bed that hadn't been cleaned in years? What about food? Was he expected to starve? Opening his mouth to protesr, he was cut off by a piercing look. "Once I have spoken with my Death Eaters and consequences have been put into place, I will send someone to check in on you." 

Voldemort stood, straightened his cloak, and gave the astonished boy one last glance. "I do hope our next meeting goes smoother, Harry. You'll learn it is much easier to cooperate." With this, he flicked his wand and dissapperated with a whirl of dust, leaving Harry alone in the vast manor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I like this chapter but I went with it anyway. Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Hope you enjoy! Please leave me some feedback!

The Headmaster's office was almost completely dark, lit only by the red embers of a fire that had long ago burnt itself out. Candles that had been left to burn were now only piles of hardened wax on the floor. Some of the past headmasters were snoozing in their portraits while others seemed on edge, fiddling or exchanging anxious whispers. 

An eruption of emerald fire burst from the harth, and a slender figure stepped out with a whirl of ash. It stood there for a moment, head bent fingers pressed tightly into the corner of each eye, before making its way wearily to the ornate chair behind the desk. Every portrait was awake now, eyeing the old man as he sat down with a long sigh. After a moment of silent stares, each afraid to be the first to speak, one broke the silence. "Dumbledore what has.…" 

Albus was quick to raise a withered hand, silencing the question before collapsing his head onto his steepled fingers. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been such a fool? 

Another burst of fire roused him from his thoughts, though he did not acknowledge his new guest. He expected he would have an abundance of visitors over the next few hours. Slow, precise footsteps approached the front of his desk, and soft creak indicated the person had seated themself in one of the chairs directly in front of the Headmaster. 

They sat in silence for what seemed like ages before Dumbledore let out a sigh. "I think it best if I had some time alone to gather…" His sentence was immediately cut short by a soft, yet eerie, chuckle. Eyes opening wide, Albus slowly lifted his head to face what he knew waited before him. 

Those gleaming red eyes were bright with excitement and triumph as they pierced into Dumbledore's defeated blue's. "Now now Professor, surely you have enough time to talk with a former student." With this, Voldemort pointed his wand at the door which let out a loud [i]click [/i] as it locked, and then turned his attention to the fireplace, making sure no one would interrupt them. 

"There now, how about some privacy," he said, turning back to the Headmaster who seemed to be trying his best to keep his calm composure. "Ah, the great, fearless Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort goaded, leaning back in his chair with legs crossed. He had the upper hand here and he knew it. "Is that worry I see in those old eyes, Headmaster?" 

Thinking quickly, Dumbledore took a deep breath and leaned casually back in his own chair. From the look of them now, anyone could mistake them for mates having a casual chat. "What have done with Harry, Tom?" The question was calm but inside Dumbledore was fighting the urge to yell. He knew it would be some time before anyone would find him here. After all, he wasn't technically the Headmaster anymore. 

Voldemort let his gaze drift to the floor as if he were pondering the question. "Who's to say I haven't already killed your boy hero?" he asked confidentially, snapping his attention back to the professor's face. He wanted to see the defeat wash over him as the words sank in. Yet, he was slightly disappointed to see a smile spreading across Dumbledore's lips. 

"Come now Tom, we both know that if you had already killed him you would have brought his body with you. It's your biggest downfall Tom, " Dumbledore said, holding Riddle's gaze which no longer held the same glee. "You never pass up an opportunity to gloat." 

Voldemort's smile dropped a fraction but he merely shook his head. "You know me to well, Albus but," he paused here, calculating his next words. "Apparently not well enough to know this was coming. You basically delivered the boy to me you old fool. You knew he was having visions, didn't you? " He took a moment to laugh here as Dumbledore dropped his eyes in shame. "And yet you still didn't find it pressing enough to help the poor boy. What's wrong Professor? Did you see something familiar in those emerald eyes?" 

It took several minutes for Dumbledore to respond. He remained staring at the multiple unfinished Decrees that littered the top of his former desk, unwilling to see the taunting look in Voldemort's eyes. "I stand by what I said earlier. I've grown extremely foolish in my old age. Looking back on what I should and should not have done will change nothing now. I've learned that all too well." It was here he returned his view back to Riddle's. "I'm willing to make a trade for Harry of course." 

Voldemort let out a loud cackle that filled the room. Daybreak was upon them and a grey light was beginning to seep in through an open window. Soon students would be starting their day, unaware of how much things had changed over the course of one night. Unaware that directly above them sat the world's biggest threat. 

Leaning forward, Voldemort was still shaking with laughter. "You have nothing to bargain with. Nothing I…" 

"I'm talking specifically about myself," Dumbledore interjected. 

Voldemort's laughing ceased immediately and his red eyes narrowed. Leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head, he stared at a spot directly above Dumbledore's head. Chewing his bottom lip, he seemed to be weighing his options. A small grin broke out suddenly as if a funny thought had crossed his mind. "Have you ever heard Harry scream, Albus?" 

A mixture of anger and nausea overtook Dumbledore as he tried to find the words to say. "Tom I don't-" 

Voldemort gave out a soft chuckle, ignoring Dumbledore completely. "The boy tries to be so strong," he pressed on, locking his eyes back on Dumbledore's color drained face . "But that sound he makes, oh that beautiful sound, when his will breaks and that scream that's been building bursts out in a gagged cry. Not to mention the way his body thrashes…" 

"STOP!" Dumbledore's hand was now resting on the hilt of his wand, his usual cool composure overtaken by complete rage. "Tell me where he is Tom." 

"Or what?" Voldemort whispered propping himself on the edge of the chair, that sick smirk still resting on his thin lips. A quiet settled over them, neither one willing to budge. 

A loud pounding came from the door, but neither seemed bothered by it. "Albus! Albus!" came Remus's' panicked voice from the other side. 

"It seems that my time is up," Voldemort said, rising to his feet. He started to make his way back to the fireplace. 

Dumbledore rose to his feet as well, drawing his wand and taking aim at his former pupil. "Tom please. Let Harry go. I'm begging you to let me take his place." The panic in his voice was now palpable as he watched the wizard stop right outside the harth. 

The door shook as Remus threw his body against it repeatedly. Voldemort spun on his heal, eyeing the wand that was pointing at his chest and then resting his gaze on those pleading blue eyes. "It's so nice to see you begging Dumbledore," [b] CRACK [/b] The door began to splinter. It was one hit away from bursting open. "But I think I'll keep the whipping boy. He seems to be more valuable than I first thought." Taking a backwards step, Voldemort stepped into the fireplace as the door splintered open. 

Remus stumbled in, wand drawn and breathing rapidly. Turning to fix his aim on the dark wizard in the fireplace, he faltered. "I'll make sure to give Harry your love of course. He seems to think this is all your fault after all," Voldemort sneered. 

Taking a hand full of flue powder the wizard raised his arm but before dropping it he couldn't resist one last remark. "Oh, and I'll see if I can get you to one of our torture sessions. You just have to hear him screaming." Before anyone could get a spell off, Voldemort dropped his hand full of powder, disappearing in blaze of green fire. 

Dumbledore collapsed back into his chair, face in his hands. In the background he could hear as if coming from far away, Remus shouting, cursing, as he tried to make since of what was going on around them. All Albus could do was think of the damage he had caused. All the wrong choices he had made this year that had led them to this. 

A pounding on his desk awoke him from his thoughts, and he raised his head wearily to see Remus leaning forward, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the oak wood. "We can't just sit here Dumbledore! " 

Letting out a low sigh, Albus erected himself in his chair. "What would you have me do Remus?" His voice came out calmer than he felt. In all truthfulness, he would rather be the one up shouting, throwing things, anything rather than sitting there helplessly. 

Reality began to sink in forcing Lupin to take a seat in Voldemort's former chair. "I don't know. I thought you of all people would have a plan." 

"I have all the Order's spies out looking for his location. So far they have had nothing to report on. It would seem that Voldemort hasn't even told his Death Eaters that he has Harry." 

A look of panic crossed Remus's face. "Are we sure he's alive? Voldemort could just be toying with us. " 

"I'm positive he's alive," Dumbledore quickly reassured him. "If Harry were dead we would surely know it." 

A small amount of relief washed over Lupin but not enough to settle the nausea rising in his stomach. "I can be of some help. I'm plugged in with some werewolves that…." 

Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping Remus from finishing his offer. "Remus I must implore you to wait until we have more information. They know you are working for the Order and if they were to capture…" 

"I can use a polijuice potion. They would never have to know it was me," he pleaded, desperate for a way to feel productive. Yet, the look on Dumbledore's face told him his answer without speaking. 

"I'm afraid the only thing left for us to do is wait."


	4. Chapter 4

Three days. It had been three days since he'd eaten a single bite. Three days since he'd heard a voice other than his own. Three days since he'd been left in that musty, run down, hell hole to rot. Worst of all, it had been three days alone with only his nightmares to keep him company. 

On day one he'd scoured the whole house looking for any sign of a weak point to make his escape. He'd pulled every loose board, banged on every cracked window, and even looked up the chimney in hopes of finding a way out of his prison. All attempts proved futile though and he ended up collapsing on a filth ridden bed in an upstairs room. 

Day two was, if possible, worse than the previous. He began by looking for any source of water or food to sustain the ache in the pit of his stomach and the numbness of his mouth. The closest thing he could come by was a drip that was seeping from a small crack in the attic ceiling. Unfortunately, the taste of tar and rotted wood that mingled in his mouth made it almost unbearable to drink. Gagging, he had been able to force it down for a while before retching it up later on.

By day three he had lost nearly all of his energy. He was sure now that Voldemort had left him there to die a slow death of starvation. In a last attempt, Harry had slid off the bed he'd been sleeping in and began to bang on the nearest window, yelling at the top of his lungs. He prayed for someone in the village to hear him as he screamed until his lungs burned. As failure set in, he'd collapsed back on the bed with a puff of dust surrounding him, his hopes fading with the setting sun. 

On day four he awoke with some effort. He willed his eyes to open, staring blankly at the rafters above. "So this is how the Boy Who Lived dies," he croaked out to the empty room. Forcing himself to sit up on the edge of the bed, he fought back the nausea that accompanied the headrush he'd become all to familiar with. 

Anger engulfed him as he took deep breaths to steady the spinning room. How could no one have found him by now? They had spies after all. Surely someone had been tipped off as to where he was being held. Maybe Dumbledore was biding his time; using him like some sort of pawn piece. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time. 

The rage boiled up in him until he could no longer stand it. Seizing a nearby rickety chair, he swung it wildly against the window before him. Over and over he beat the termite ridden wood against the impenetrable glass, shards of rotten debree flying off in all directions. All the rage and sorrow he'd felt pored out with each swing and ragged cry until weaknesses overtook him and he collapsed to the dusty floor. 

"Are you done with your little tantrum now, Potter?" A voice like ice drifted over to him, causing him to jump at the sound. He'd been alone for so long that the unexpected noise was enough to nearly have give him a heart attack. 

Rolling to his side with obvious difficulty, he looked to the door to find the source of the voice. He was met with a surprising sight leaning nonchalantly against the rotted door frame. Instead of the snake like face he'd become accustomed to in his nightmares, he found an older version of the prefect he'd met in the Chamber of Secrets three years ago. Thick black hair now topped the once bald head, and a nose had seemingly grown since their last meeting. The only trait that remained was the piercing red eyes that were mocking him silently across the room. 

Harry couldn't contain the puff of laughter, as he collapsed onto his back again. Either he was so exhausted from hunger or he was losing his mind, but something seemed funny about seeing Voldemort almost normal in appearance. "Couldn't stand looking in the mirror anymore then? " he asked in a cracked voice, still staring at the ceiling.

"I found it much easier to blend in if the Order has no idea what they're supposed to be looking for," came the off handed reply directly above him. Somehow the Wizard had made his way across the room without a single noise, and was now looking down at Harry with a smug grin. "Now if you don't mind accompanying me to the study, we have some business to tend to." 

Harry shut his eyes, taking slow breaths before answering. " You know I don't think I can. I'm feeling a bit peekish. Something about not eating for three days does that to a person." His voice was thick with sarcasm as he dramatically draped his arm across his forehead. 

A sharp pain shot through his scalp as he was hoisted mercilessly to his unsteady feet by the hair. Soon after standing he felt a tug behind his navel as they apparated from the small bedroom. The spinning did nothing to help the queasy feeling deep in the pit of his empty stomach or the dizziness when they came to a sudden stop in the downstairs study. Thankfully, he was forced roughly into the winged back chair he had sat in three nights previous. 

Voldemort strolled behind the desk and seated himself across from Harry. Producing his wand from inside his cloak, he gave it a simple flick and a small plate of sandwiches appeared along with a goblet of what appeared to be water. Despite his hunger, Harry eyed the food suspiciously. He knew that if Voldemort wanted him dead it was just a curse away, however there could be any number of potions hidden in that food that would be much worse than death. 

"Go on and take a sandwich, Harry. I haven't poisoned them," Voldemort said with a generous smile as if reading his mind.

Against his better judgment, and because it felt as if his stomach would consume him, Harry reluctantly reached across the table and took a sandwich from the plate. He was just putting the stale bread to his lips when he was interrupted. 

"Of course, there is a price," Voldemort said, a forboading gleam in his red eyes. Before Harry could respond he pressed on. " All I ask is for a look into that mind of yours; no resistance, no walls." 

"Fat chance," Harry responded, tossing his sandwich back onto the plate . 

Voldemort's smile only broadened as he rose to his feet and circled around behind Harry's chair. The boy felt like he was being stalked by a hungry shark, as he lost sight of the wizard. If the was anything more intimidating than having to face the Dark Lord, it was not being able to see what he was doing. 

"Come now, Harry. We both know that on a good day your Occlumency is dismal at best." Voldemort's voice was directly above him now, and two cold hands clamped on either side of his shoulders. Harry repressed a shudder as Voldemort continued. "Imagine how insignificant it will be after not eating for three days. Now, you can give me what I want and be rewarded for it or," he paused here, rubbing Harry's shoulders encouragingly. " Or I can take it with little to no effort. What will it be? " 

Harry sat silently picking at a hole in his filthy jeans, debating his options. He hated to admit that Voldemort would get what he was after whether he allowed him or not, but there was no point in denying how weak he had become. How was he suppose to fight the Dark Lord out of his mind when he could barely keep focused on a single thought? Deciding it was best to get some food while the opportunity was there, Harry gave a disinclined nod. 

"That a boy," replied Voldemort with a clap on the shoulder. He perched himself on the edge of the desk directly in front of Harry's seat, eyeing him triumphantly. Harry couldn't help but take in that new face staring at him merely inches away. It was hard to imagine that it was even the same wizard he saw reborn at the end of last year. "Now I suggest you brace yourself, Harry. This will not be comfortable." 

Without warning, Harry began to see images from his past swirl in front of his eyes. An emmince pressure overtook his head, and he involuntarily began to resist it. "Remember our deal, Potter," came a voice deep inside his mind. With some effort, Harry willed himself to relax against the unseen presence in his head. 

The memories came in random sequence. A scruany black haired boy crying in a small dark cupboard. The same boy wailing as his aunt spanked him; a pile of soiled bed sheets littered the floor. An angry teen taunting his bigger cousin, hoping to initiate a fight. A trio of friends laughing beside a warm common room fire. A beautiful young red head girl, offering an encouraging smile. 

Harry immediately scrunched his eyes tighter, trying to push the thought from his mind. For some reason the sight of Ginny's warm smile triggered a panic inside him. He didn't want Voldemort to see how much he cared for her, even though he had never truely admitted his feelings for his best friend's sister even to himself. However, it seemed the more he tried to rid his mind of any images of her the more they appeared. 

"Ahh,"a voiced hissed in the back of his mind. "Have I hit a soft spot, Harry." The voice seemed amused by how much Harry was struggling against the images now flooding his view. He was standing in the Burrow, the first time he had spoken to Ginny. Then there was quidditch and seeing how brilliant she was at flying. Last came a blurred image of the tinny first year lying lifeless in a damp dungeon, her red hair pillowed around her. 

Then, just as quickly as it had started, the weight was gone. "Well, well. Miss Weasley has grown into a beautiful young woman, hasn't she?" 

Harry, who was doubled over rubbing his aching head, didn't respond. He didn't realize that Voldemort would remember Ginny; after all, it had only been his memory that had possessed her. 

"Do you finally have feelings for her, Harry? She was madly in love with you a couple of years ago," he continued in a toying tone, placing a hand on Harry's head. "Maybe I should give her a little visit again. You think she misses her dear old Tom?" 

Harry tore his head away from Voldemort's grasp, a surge of anger flowing through him. "You leave her alone,"he said through uneven breaths. 

A bemused smile spread across the Dark Lord's face. Reaching out, he took Harry's chin firmly in his thin fingers. "Oh Harry, you can't begin to imagine the secrets I know about your little Ginny. After all, she spent nearly a whole year pouring her soul out to me." His eyes narrowed in excitement as he watched the seed of anger he had planted blossom into uncontrollable rage. The boy was literally shaking with suppressed fury. 

Without thinking, Harry slapped the hand away from his chin and rose quickly to his feet, taking hold of the front of Voldemort's robes. With fist clenched tight, he rared back. "If you touch her I'll…" but his words trailed off suddenly. His tongue had become unbearably heavy in his mouth, and the view before him became blurred around the edges. Black dots began to blossom before his eyes, obscuring his vision, and he staggered forwards, collapsing against his enemies chest. 

A cold laugh cut through his ragged breathing, as he fought to remain concussion. He could feel Voldemort's hands on either side of him, supporting his limp weight. "You'll do what exactly, Harry?" The voice came directly in his right ear, those thin lips nearly brushing his skin with each word. Harry would have given anything to have the strength to push away. "I love seeing you like this; so ….helpless." 

Harry felt his body being shoved backwards into his chair. He could do nothing to control his decent, and landed with a thud, head hitting the solid wood. Leaning forward, head in hands, Harry tried to steady the swirling room around him. He could hear Voldemort moving away from him, an arrogant laugh trailing. "So, Harry we must get down to business. I know that you have been spying in on me throughout the year," he paused here taking a seat back behind the old desk. "What I would like to know is how?" 

Harry shook his head, trying to find his voice again. "I... don't," he stopped to clear his dry throat. Looking up, he met those pitiless eyes staring a him. "I don't know. It was never on purpose. Only when you were mad or excited." 

Voldemort eyed him skeptically. "But you have seen things through my eyes before. There has to be a connection; surely it work both ways." 

Harry merely shrugged. Even if he knew how he was able to see through Voldemort's point of view, he wasn't about to share it with him. No doubt the dark wizard had something evil planned if he could figure it out. 

Voldemort steepled his fingers and continued to stare at Harry. It seemed he was looking for some sort of switch or instructions to tell him how to get into the boys mind. After some time, he leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, as if meditating. 

Finding the strength to sit up erect in his chair once again, Harry watched for several minutes as Voldemort remained motionless, eyes closed. That's when he saw it. Laying a few inches from Voldemort's hands, unguarded, was a wand. 

A flood of excitement washed over Harry, and he had to force himself not to jump for it. Darting his eyes back to Voldemort's emotionless face, he made sure that the wizard's eyes were still closed tight. 

[i]What are you going to do with it? There's no way out.[/i] The small voice in the back of his head was right, but he couldn't squander such an opportunity for escape. Slowly, heart racing, he perched himself on the edge of the moth eaten chair, his quidditch reflexes ready to act. With one more deep breath, he plunged his arm forward. 

His hand stopped suddenly, fingers just brushing the ornate handle. Gritting his teeth, Harry tried to force his hand past the invisible grasp keeping him from freedom. However, the more he willed his hand to grab hold of the wand, the farther it seemed to retreat. 

A cold laugh, reminded Harry he wasn't alone. Snapping his attention back to Voldemort, he saw that his eyes were open again and staring victoriously. "You do see things differently don't you, boy?" he said cooly , confirming Harry's fear. "But, I think you need to be reminded of your place." 

Snatching the wand from Harry's grasp, Voldemort gave it a flick that sent Harry spiraling back into his chair which toppled backwards with the force. Rounding the desk, Voldemort stood over the top of Harry, who was desperately trying to find his feet. Another high laugh accompanied the foot that pinned him painfully to the moldy carpet. 

Gasping for breath under the weight on his ribs, Harry felt the Cruciatus Curse overtake his body. The more he struggled, the more pressure was put on his burning ribs. He felt that fire spreading over every bone in his body, making it impossible to hold in the cracked screams that broke through his lips. The screaming didn't last long, as his voice broke. 

The pain was gone, after what felt like an eternity, leaving Harry on the verge passing out as he curled in on himself, trying to escape the aching that was left in the curse's wake. He could feel Voldemort's presence kneeling over him, but he made no move to acknowledge it. 

"Oh Harry, when will you learn," he goaded in a quite voice. With a dramatic sigh, Voldemort took hold of Harry's arm and hoisted him up. The boy was so weak that he was forced to lean against his captor for support. "I think it best we return to Malfoy manor together tonight. I hate to leave you in such a state. I believe Lucius has a nice dungeon cell waiting for you."


	5. Chapter 5

A breath taking cold steadily crept into the underground room. The condensation that had collected on the rough rock walls was slowly dripping onto the dust covered concrete floors, staining it with dark circles. It was completely empty save two stone pillars that served as foundation for the rooms above. That, and a young boy leaning against one of the pillars, his head drooped onto his chest and legs spread wide.

Harry had been in what he assumed was once a basement for nearly five days. He, thankfully, had been given food regularly through a cat-flap in the door. It was a welcome sight, even if it was usually an unidentifiable bowl of mush with odd lumps strewn throughout. Slowly, he had regained most of the strength he had lost after the previous four days of starvation. However, it was little consolation given the fact that he had spent roughly two weeks in captivity with hopes of escape quickly diminishing. 

Over the last couple of days Harry could feel his disdain rising. After spending all year ignoring the fact that Harry even existed, Dumbledore had yet to send him any form of help. Perhaps the Headmaster hadn't formed a plan to rescue the boy, but Harry felt as if he was simply being used. Dumbledore was always quick on his feet, coming up with solutions in a matter of a second; this situation should be no different. The thought of it made Harry's stomach sink, knowing that the longer he stayed here the less likely it was that help was on the way. 

Then there was the growing guilt that had swept over him again a few nights before, accompanied by the overwhelming grief that shook him to the core. If he had stayed put that night, listened to Hermione, instead of rushing off to the Ministry, none of this would have happened. He would be back at the castle with his friends, celebrating the end of their O.W.Ls, reminiscing at how awful this term had been, and perhaps best of all, preparing to return to twelve Grimmuald Place where his Godfather would be waiting. Instead he was trapped here, and Sirius was… He couldn't come to terms with it yet, like his brain was unwilling to accept the information as truth. 

The sound of an old door being unlocked awoke him from his reoccurring nightmare, eyes misty from the usual tears. Harry, still groggy from sleep, scrambled to his feet, wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve before returning his glasses. It was the first time anyone had entered the dungeon since Voldemort had left him there, fighting to remain concious five nights ago. Clinching his fists, heart racing with anticipation, he prepared to rush the door as soon as it was opened. 

 

The wooden door sprang wide allowing Voldemort and a smug looking Lucius Malfoy to enter the dark room. Running at a dead sprint, Harry was inches from colliding with the smirking pair when chains sprang, snake like, around his wrists, dragging his arm painful up towards the ceiling until only the tips of his toes could brush the floor. "Now Harry," Voldemort said, a touch of laughter in his voice, as Lucius shut the door with a snap. "You didn't really think that would work did you?" 

"Worth a shot," Harry snapped, his irritation rising at being mocked like a child. 

Voldemort remained by the door, hands clasped behind his back as he gave Harry a piercing stare. "Today we're going to focus on the Order, Potter. Lu…." 

"I don't know anything about the Order that you don't already know, " said Harry, quick to cut him off.

Setting his jaw, Voldemort dropped the smile and shook his head incredulously, obviously annoyed at being interrupted. "I don't believe that for a second, boy. You spent half of the summer in the very middle of it, so don't lie to me. Besides," the smile returned here as he motioned to Malfoy senior who was standing quietly behind him. "Lucius here will be the one to interrogate you." With this, Voldemort produced a red arm chair from thin air and sat down comfortably. 

Lucius, bowing to the Dark Lord, stalked forward until he was merely an arms length from Harry. This close Harry could see the hunger in those pale, grey eyes as they searched him up and down, looking for the best place to begin. Harry could feel his heart pounding against his adams apple, as he fought back the fear that was building inside him. He knew how keen Lucius must be to have him so vulnerable, after all Harry had caused numerous problems in his once perfect life. He had thwarted his plans in his second year, set his house elf free, destroyed the prophecy he was left in charge of retrieving, and lost him his standings inside the ministry. If ever there was a person who wanted to cause Harry more pain than Voldemort, it was Lucius Malfoy. 

"Well now Potter, where shall we begin?" Lucius's words were cold and drawn out, and Harry could hear the excitement behind each. Taking a glance over Malfoy's shoulder he could see Voldemort with his eyes closed, resting the bridge of his new found nose on his steepled finger tips. 

"I've already said I don't know anything, or can't you hear?" Harry spat, trying his best to keep the fear from rising in his voice. 

Smirking, Lucius closed the gap between them and took Harry gently by the chin. "I do hope you keep that Gryffindor spirit for a while. It will make breaking you even more exciting." He reached up with his free hand to brush Harry's long bangs from his forehead, keeping his attention trained on those livid green eyes. 

Without thinking, and to get Malfoy's cold fingers away from him, Harry kicked out with his free feet, striking Lucius directly in the shins. Cursing, the man stumbled back, and produced his wand from inside his cane. Giving it a wave, Harry felt a tug on each ankle as chains shackled him to the floor spread eagle. A sharp blow came across his abdomen, causing him to puff out his remaining air. Another strike to the hip, and he was biting back a yelp. It took him a moment to realize that Lucius was hitting him with the end of his walking cane. 

Taking a retreating step, Malfoy brushed his silvery blonde hair behind his ears, regaining his calm composure. "Now Potter, I need the names of every Order member you can recall," he said quietly. Pacing slowly to Harry's left, he leaned his cane carefully against one of the pillars. He seemed to be waiting patiently for Harry to answer, eyes locked tightly on the young boy hanging securely in front of him. 

"I don't know of anyone that you wouldn't already know about," he answered truthfully.

Lucius took a step closer, eyes narrowing. " That may be true, but I still want to hear the names from your mouth." 

"No," Harry began simpily. "There's no use in repeating them if you already know who they are." 

Another advancing step. " You realize that there are endless forms of torture besides the Cruciatus curse," he hissed into the boy's ear. 

"You already know! There's no reason…" Harry's voice trailed off as a glint of steel was produced from under Malfoy's cloak. A sharp point came to rest at the base of his ear and traced down his jaw line until it reached his throat. White hot fear spread over the boy as he tried ineffectively to crane his neck away.

Lucius was standing close enough now that Harry could feel his hot minty breath on his face. "Please, give me a reason to use this, Potter," the man begged, digging the point slightly under the skin, a drop of blood streaking it's way down the sharp edge. 

Harry's insides squirmed at the sound of Lucius's voice. Each syllable was dripping with longing as he trailed the knife down to Harry's chest. "I'm not going to play your games, Malfoy," Harry replied a little braver than he actually felt. 

Lucius, smile spread broadly across his face, gave his wand a quick flick. Immediately, Harry felt his shirt disappear and rush of cold air overtake his bare skin. Repressing a shiver, he couldn't help but take several deep breaths to steady his racing heart. He knew what to expect with the Cruciatus curse; an emence pain and then only a dull throb as the effects wore off, but a dagger was different. He had no way of knowing how deep or how far the Death Eater was willing to go with a knife or how to prepare himself for the pain. Locking eyes with Lucius, Harry defiantly clinched his teeth in a silent vow to not give him the satisfaction he was looking for. This seemed to only increase the lust in those steely eyes.

It came hot and sudden. The piercing of flesh as the blade sank through the first layers of skin like butter, sent Harry's nerves on fire. Concealing the pain was no easy feat, but Harry was determined not to give in so easily. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as Lucius never took his eyes off of his, cutting blindly. "Ready to answer yet, boy? No?" By the set glare on Harry's face the answer was clear. "Excellent!" 

Blood was dripping slowly down Harry's heaving chest in streaks after several grueling minutes. Lucius, however, had moved to a new patch of skin now, carefully placing the knife tip just above the waistband of his trousers. Harry's eyes widened a fraction and instinctively tried to bring his hands down "Ah I've found a sensitive spot," Malfoy remarked, playfully dragging the knife gently from side to side. 

Without thinking, Harry tried frantically to pull his hips back, thrashing against the chains. Lucius slid his long fingers to the small of the boy's back to counter this movement, digging the point deeper into the tender flesh. "That's better,"the man purred, watching Harry squirm with a triumphant look on his face. Agonizingly slow, he drug the knife that was a couple inches into Harry's skin from one protruding hip bone to another. Gritting his teeth more tightly, Harry held his breath in attempt to fight off the scream filling his mind. 

With a heavy sigh, Lucius returned the blood covered knife to the holster inside his cloak, admiring his work. "It seems another style of punishment may be needed," he said in mock disappointment. 

Harry forced a laugh from between his clinched teeth. "I'm surprised Voldemort picked you for this," he said, his voice hiding his pain well though slightly out of breath. He was stalling, trying to give his body time to process this pain before moving on to whatever was to come. "How many times have you failed him? Let's see, you didn't revive him with that diary a few years ago." A flash of anger struck Malfoy's face replacing that confident smile, but Harry recklessly continued. "You plead innocent after his downfall to save your own skin. Hell, you couldn't even get a blue orb from a bunch of teenagers. How could he possibly think you would be able to handle…" 

WHAM! 

Harry's sentence was cut short by a sharp blow to the face that knocked his head sideways. The cooper taste of blood filled his mouth and the ringing in his ears drowned out Lucius's words as he shook his bruised hand. Stars blossomed before his eyes, obstructing the dark dungeon view. "……learned some manners," was the only words Harry caught as his hearing returned. 

Surprisingly, Lucius seemed to be fairly calm as he scanned Harry's face, apparently deep in thought about his next torture method. The corner of Malfoy's mouth rose, forming a sinister grin. "I find… humiliation is the best way to break a cocky attitude," he whispered, taking a step closer. Harry found something off in the way Lucius was eyeing him, something that sent a cold shiver down his spine. 

Placing a cold hand on Harry's shoulder, Lucius's eyes broke away from his for the first time that night and trailed down to his belt, hand following suite as it brushed its was down the boy's scared abdomen. Fear escalated quickly inside of Harry, as his brain began to comprehend just what the older man was implying. Surely he wasn't willing to go that far to prove a point. 

"There are so many things I could do to you," Lucius whispered softly in Harry's ear, his mouth barely touching the skin. Harry was looking down now, watching that pale hand come to rest on his waistband, a wave of sickness washing over him. A long finger pried the excess leather from the loop and pulling it tight, released the buckle. "Mmm I'm sure I could have you begging in a matter of minutes." He gave the belt a little tug, slowly pulling it from each loop. 

Harry's heart was hammering a violent beat against his rib cage now. "I've…. you wouldn't….you can't…" The teenager seemed unable to form a thought as his mind raced with images of unspeakable acts; his scar flaring to life. He was struggling now, fighting away from that hand that was working his belt out of the last notch. With the support gone, Harry's trousers slid down an inch exposing the top of his boxers that were stained with the dripping blood from the gashes above. 

Lucius smirked, a yearning look in his eyes as hooked a cold finger under the elastic of Harry's underwear. Closing his eyes, Harry's breath came in fearful gasp. He could hear Lucius laughing as he moved his finger from side to side, stretching the band away from Harry's skin. "Unfortunately, I'm bound by rules, my boy," he said, letting the elastic slap back against Harry's waist. Relief, even if it was fleeting, washed over Harry. A hand reached up to pet Harry's face gently, and he forced his eyes open to stare into his assaulter's amused face. "By the look of it though, it may be the only way to get through to you." 

Giving Harry's face a small slap, the Death Eater circled around behind him running his fingernail down the boy's spine. "If you won't tell me the names, Potter, I'll just have to go down the list of members we do know. Let's see," he paused here as if trying to think of a name. "There's the Weasleys, as if that's a real asset." 

Harry forced himself not to rise to the bait; instead leaving them in a tense silence. He thought of each Weasley in turn, their warm, smiling faces filling his mind; his scar gave another annoying jolt. However, the quiet was quickly cut through by a sharp snap as Lucius brought the end of Harry's belt across his exposed back. Holding back a cry, Harry felt his face flush a brilliant shade of red. Another strike, and he was biting his bottom lip unable to withhold a small grunt. 

"Then there's the Aurors; Shackelbolt," SNAP! SNAP! "And that metamorphagis, what's her name…Ah yes, Tonks." SNAP! SNAP! "Who else? Alastor Mad-eye." This time Harry felt the buckle end rake across his rib cage, producing a cracked gasp from his lips. Teeth gritted tight, as another lick struck his shoulder, the metal digging deep into the skin. "We just found out about that werewolf, Lupin." Harry couldn't hold back any longer. As the buckle popped against his ribs again and again, he let out a gagged cry. The metal was beating against his already raw flesh, and each blow felt like it was tearing his skin down to the bone. This went on for several minutes as Lucius went down the line of nearly every Order member Harry could think of. 

"Last of course was your dear old Godfather, but" Lucius returned to view, a wide smirk playing across that pale face. Harry felt the anger stir deep within him at the mention of Sirius. "We don't have to worry about him anymore, do we? How does it feel Potter, to have no one left and know it's entirely your fault? " Rage boiled to the surface, as he watched Lucius raise the belt back and bring it crashing down across his already bleeding chest. Screwing up his face, the boy couldn't contain the scream that broke through his teeth. Whether it was from pain or rage, he had no idea. 

He wanted to hurt Lucius; tear him limb from limb, make him hurt worse than anything he had done to Harry that night. With arm and legs restrained, the best Harry could muster was a wad of blood and mucus that he spit directly into the smirking face. 

It was enough to send Malfoy over the edge. "You little brat," he exclaimed wiping the spit from his face with the back if his blood splattered sleave. Advancing on the boy, hand raised, he was ready to strike when a voice stopped him. 

"That'll do Luicius!"

The voice made Harry jump; in the midst of everything he had forgotten they were not alone. Looking around, he could see Voldemort was once again on his feet, and pacing slowly towards the two of them, a satisfied look to him. Lucius was quick to bow out of the way, his eyes still trained, almost fearfully, on Harry. 

"I'm surprised, Harry,"said Voldemort coming to stop in front of him, hands still clasped behind his back. "That was enough to make any grown wizard spill his deepest secrets. I will admit it was invigorating watching it through your eyes; feeling all those raw emotions. You really believed Lucius was about to rape you, didn't you?" A smirk played across that new face, making Harry's anger rise somehow higher. How could he not have realized that Voldemort was inside his mind this whole time?

"Not to worry though, I got some information I was looking for just by the thoughts that popped into that beautifully simple mind of yours," he continued, placing a long finger on Harry's forehead. 

"How …" Harry trailed off realizing that each Order member's face had come into his mind while Lucius was hitting him, even some he hadn't mentioned. Instant guilt washed over him, however his rage consumed it. "You bastard!" He spat, eyes livid. 

"Now, now Harry I wouldn't speak to me like that; not if you want your reward," Voldemort scolded playfully. With a wave of his wand, the blood flowing down Harry front and back was wiped clean and a shirt appeared over the cuts and whelps. The chains holding him in place released, causing him to crumble to the concrete floor. Unsteady, he climbed to his feet, each movement sending blinding pain over his entire body. 

"There now," said Voldemort, walking closer. "Now it's your turn." Sticking his skeletal hand out, Harry realized he was offering him his wand. Dumbstruck, Harry stared suspiciously at the man's face, waiting for the joke to come. 

"My turn for what exactly?" 

Voldemort's smile only broadened. "I'm giving you the opportunity for revenge, my dear boy. I want you to torture Mr. Malfoy here." His voice was casual, as if asking a simple favor; yet Harry felt there must be some mistake. There had to be a catch he was missing. 

"Thanks but no thanks," Harry seethed. The longing to cause Lucius as much pain as possible was still there in the back of his mind, but something held him back. A small voice reminded him of the night he tortured Bellatrix nearly to insanity and how he had felt after seeing her barely able to stand. Shaking the thought from his head he couldn't help but notice the feeling of vexation rising to the surface. Looking to Lucius, who was standing arrogantly beside them, Harry could see that his face held no sign of fear. From the look of it, he didn't believe Harry capable of torturing him. 

Something about Lucius's overconfidence drove Harry to reach out and take the wand from Voldemort's outstretched hand and examine it closely. The material was completely different from his own, making it awkward in his grasp . He could feel Voldemort's cold red eyes watching him, and Harry made the only decision possible. Raising the wand, he leveled it a Voldemort's face. 

Lucius raised his wand quickly, pointing it at Harry. Instead of looking alarmed, the Dark Lord seemed highly amused. Gesturing for Malfoy to lower his wand he let out a cruel laugh. "Harry, Harry. Do really think I'd give you my wand without thinking you would try to use it against me? Come now boy, I'm no idiot." 

"You could have fooled me," snarled Harry , but his hand lowered an inch. "Stupif…." 

Before Harry could finish the spell a wave of images overtook him, obscuring his view. His mother yelling, pleading for his life…. Cedric lying motionless, eyes wide and glassy…..Sirius falling helplessly behind the veil, never returning. 

"STOP!"

His knees buckled, hitting the concrete with crippling force. Head in his hand, he fought the overpowering agony of grief and pain as his mind tried to tear itself apart. A hand brushed through his hair , causing him to jerk away sharply. 

"Now, Harry you don't want to go through all those terrible memories again do you? If you want, I can give you a taste of what I am going to do to your friends if you don't cooperate." The hand that had been gently brushing his hair before, grabbed hold and pulled him back to his feet. 

Breathing hard, Harry felt as though he would be sick. Eyes on the floor, he felt Voldemort press the wand he had dropped back into his cold, numb hands. He was sure that if he tried to break it he would be forced to watch images of Ron or Hermione being tortured. "I can't use the curse," he said breathlessly. "You have to enjoy watching someone in pain and if you haven't noticed I'm not like you." Harry raised his gaze to stare defiantly into Voldemort's narrowing red eyes. 

"I can see your thoughts, Harry. Are you trying to say that you wouldn't enjoy seeing Lucius in as much pain as he's caused you?" Voldemort hissed, repeating Harry's exact thoughts from earlier. 

An image of Lucius standing before him, gloating about Sirius's death, floated into Harry's mind, reviving that hatred he'd felt. Griping the yew wand tightly in his hand, Harry fought between the conflicting emotions of what he knew was right and what he longed so greatly to do. Glancing back to Lucius, he stared into that smug face until a decision drove him to action. 

As much as it hurt, Harry brought himself up to full height; his skin on fire. Fixing a determined look on his face, he flung the wand back at Voldemort's feet where it clattered to a stop a few inches away. "I'm not like you," he repeated forcefully. He wondered briefly if he was saying it more to reassure himself than anything else, but he quickly chased the thought from his mind, locking his eyes fearlessly with his enemy. 

An unreadable expression overtook Voldemort's face, as he stooped forward to collect his wand. For a few minutes he examined the piece of wood in his hands, ignoring Harry completely. "Harry," he paused shaking his head, that black hair swaying gracefully from side to side. "I have given you every opportunity to cooperate with me, and yet I have been met with resistance at every turn. My patience has worn thin." 

The boy never saw the flick of the wand, but suddenly he was being drug upwards by only his left ankle. "I have been merciful up to this point, Potter, but no more! Crucio!" 

Harry felt the familiar fire spread down to his bones, as he tried to curl in on himself, thrashing violently against the invisible hold on his foot. The already ravaged skin pulled taunt against his ribs, opening the cuts anew, and sending fresh blood down towards his neck. There was no use fighting the scream that tore through his lunges, causing him to yell until his throat tore apart. He felt as if every fiber in his body was splitting, ripping, tearing itself to shreds as the curse rippled through him. This had to be it; he was surely about to die. 

The curse lifted, leaving him limp; his shirt pooled around his purple face. Each breath came is short gasps as his lunges refused to expand against the pain. Voldemort was face to face with him now, his jaw set in frustration. "I'm going to give you an ultimatum, Potter," he whispered sending hot breath over Harry's sweat drenched face. "You give me what I want, or I'll collect one of your friends and let you watch as I torture them to death." 

Harry felt the blood pulsing to his head, his glasses falling askew. Even after all he had been through, he couldn't repress a snort of laughter. "Good…luck…" he gasped out; each word strangled by his constricting airway. "…at…Hogwarts….." Try as he might, he couldn't form the sentence as his thoughts became fuzzy. 

A sharp pain exploded across his face, accompanied by a sickening crunch as his nose collided with a powerful force. Blood flooded his sinuses, leaving him fighting for air as he coughed against the wave of copper liquid invading his throat. "You forget that there are those that aren't under that old fool's protection. Remus Lupin, for instance, is easily within our reach." 

Harry faltered. He'd never even thought about those outside of Hogwarts, and Remus was indeed an easy capture. From the last Harry had gathered, he was working with the werewolves, most of whom openly supported Voldemort. Suddenly his plans diminished before him, leaving him grasping for an idea; anything to regain the upper hand. 

However, before he could think of an answer, Voldemort continued, waving Lucius towards the door. "I'll give you the night to think on it, Potter. However," he stopped here, his hand on the shinning door handle. "If you refuse me in the morning, I'll be sure to have your werewolf friend here by nightfall." 

With a last wave of his wand, Voldemort left the room as Harry fell, head first, onto the floor below. Through the throbbing in his ears, Harry could hear the door snap shut and knew he was alone again. His body ached with every movement as he brought himself up into a sitting position, quickly clamping a hand over his mangled, gushing nose. Now that his one defense was gone, he could feel his last hope dissipate. He didn't care what they did to him, but he couldn't stand back and watch someone else be tortured because of him.


End file.
